


It’s Not That I Didn’t Consider The Death Ray

by sentientcitizen



Category: Star Trek (TOS/reboot), Torchwood
Genre: Badass Ladies, Crossover, F/M, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 17:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentientcitizen/pseuds/sentientcitizen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jack, Gwen, and Tosh land on the Enterprise by mistake, Tosh realises that misanthropic-doctor-with-a-heart-of-gold is kind of her type.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s Not That I Didn’t Consider The Death Ray

**Author's Note:**

> 2011 xover_exchange pinch-hit for [snoozing_kitten](http://snoozing-kitten.dreamwidth.org/profile). Thanks to [sophia_sol](http://sophia-sol.dreamwidth.org/profile) for the stellar last-second beta. Star Trek and Torchwood belong as always to their respective creators

Tosh blinked, reeling for a moment under the unpleasant effect of travelling via Jack’s wrist-strap. She managed to get her feet back under herself, looked around, and then sighed. Contrary to Jack’s promises, this was _not_ the hub. Peering at the wall, she frowned. That computer panel looked familiar. Where had she seen...? She leaned forward to examine it closer.

“Jack,” said Gwen, in tones of utter exasperation. “You bloody great idiot. We’re lost, aren’t we.” She braced herself against a wall, looking faintly nauseous.

Jack prodded his wrist-strap. “Don’t think of it as lost,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Think of it as an extended layover in...” he peered at the strap. “...in the United Federation of Planets. Ah, good. Nice folk, for the most part.”

“And where’s that, then?” Gwen demanded.

“I don’t think it’s where,” said Tosh, suddenly, straightening up.. “I think it’s when. Look.” She pointed. “This is English, or something like it. But this technology is way beyond Earth normal. I’m fairly certain we pulled something that looked like this out of the rift, a few months back.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, and the doors to their little room _whooshed_ open. Men in red shirts poured in through the door, shouting for their surrender with guns at the ready.

There was a pause, and the three members of the Torchwood crew raised their hands in the air. “How _long_ of a layover, Jack?” Gwen asked, voice dripping false sweetness.

“A few days,” said Jack confidently, as they were herded down the corridor. “We come in peace,” he added, to their captors.

“Explain it to the Captain,” said the man who seemed to be in charge, very nearly kindly.

* * *

 _Well,_ thought Tosh, resignedly, as the forcefield bzzzp’ed into place, _at least it’s one of the nicer cells I’ve been in._

“Right,” said Gwen, after a moment. “Anybody think to grab a deck of cards before we left the hub?”

Jack patted his pockets, then turned them inside out theatrically. “No such luck. I can think of another way to pass the time, though.”

“Not in a cell with transparent doors,” said Gwen in dry tones.

“Actually, sir,” said Tosh, “I have a plan. You said they’re friendlies, mostly? Likely to follow something like the Gevena Conventions?”

“Here and now? Starfleet Protocols.” A genuine grin began the spread across Jack’s face. “Are you thinking of...?”

“Well, I did have that traumatic experience with UNIT,” she said. “I think I might be flashing back. Could be a good idea to call for a medical professional.” Either they’d bring a doctor to her, and maybe they’d get a good look at how to doors opened, or they’d take her to the doctor, and then she’d have all _kinds_ of opportunities.

“You sure?” said Jack. She knew what he was really asking: was she sure she wanted to go off on her own in unknown territory?

Tosh flashed him a brief, terse smile. It wasn’t hard for her to let the fear and anxiety rise up. Tiny cell, unknown captors... she felt her breath coming faster. “Yes sir,” she said, widening her eyes. She could feel herself getting lightheaded. Good old self-induced hyperventilation. Only a touch theatrically, she let herself stagger, clutching Jack’s shirt for support.

Gwen, catching on, strode over to the force field. In her best ‘I’m a copper and you’d best do as I say’ voice, she called out, “Oi! We need some medical attention in here, right now!”

* * *

By the time they reached medbay, the security officers were all but carrying her as she trembled and gasped. The problem with intentionally induced panic, she thought with the tiny corner of her brain that still functioned as she wanted it to, is that it’s a lot harder to stop than it is to start. She was in a grey-walled facility, being hauled along by uniformed soldiers to an unknown destination, and that was really hitting a little too close to home.

The doors whooshed open. The soldiers dragged her into what was clearly a medical facility of some kind. A poorly-shaved man in a blue version of the same uniform was on his knees on the floor, poking with vague annoyance at the disassembled interior of a high-tech cot. He turned as he stood, already scowling. “Oh, for - what did you half-wits _do_ to her?” He pulled out what had to be some kind of diagnostic device, and waved it in her direction.

“Nothing!” one of them protested, helping her up onto a different, less complicated-looking cot. “We put her in a cell and she just - went all shaky!”

“Idiots.” He shoved a cartridge into what looked like a short stick. Before she could protest, he was across the room and slapping the stick against her neck. She heard a pneumatic _hiss_ and felt the sharp bite of metal into flesh, and then, to her surprise, she took a deep easy breath.

“What was _that_?” she asked, surprised.

“Improvoline,” he said. “Basic sedative. You have a history of panic attacks?”

Her mind felt clear, with none of the drowsiness she associated with sedatives, but when she reached for panic it was like a distant dream. “Is this addictive?” she asked, raising a hand to touch her neck. She could see how it might be. She felt... incredible. Perfectly calm and relaxed.

“Of course not,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You have a history of panic attacks or not?”

She frowned, but couldn’t really be annoyed. Probably the sedative at work. “Not really. Not usually. There was... I was once held in a detention facility. Indefinitely, and without trial. I don’t do well with cells. Or guards.”

The doctor sighed. “And those idiots just tossed you in there. Wonderful.”

“Standard procedure - ” the one officer began to protest, but stopped at a look from the doctor.

“Standard procedure,” he said, “says that as an unidentified intruder, she’s overdue for _standard_ medical review. To make sure she’s not a brain-sucking alien from the Delta Quadrant or somesuch. So why don’t you stand guard - outside the doors, thank-you - and let me deal with my patient?”

“But what if she - ”

“The tricorder says she’s human normal, and she’s got 5cc of improvoline rushing through her veins,” the doctor growled. “Out of my medbay. Now. Chapel!”

A blonde-haired women in a short-shirted blue uniform poked her head around a corner. “Yes, sir?”

“Take one of these idiots with you and go wave a tricorder over our other intruders, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sullenly, the red-shirted officers retreated outside, Chapel at their heels, and even through the drug Tosh felt something in her relax when the doors whooshed shut behind them.

“Thank-you,” she said, a little charmed in spite of herself. _Misanthropic medical doctors with terrible bedside manner_ , she thought ruefully. _Clearly I have a type._

He shrugged one shoulder. “They were a detriment to your continued recovery. Mine’s a bloody thankless job, but it has its perks.” He stuck out a hand. “Doctor Leonard McCoy. Call me Bones.”

“Toshiko Sato,” she said, reaching out her own hand to shake his. “Call me Tosh. What did you do to that... uh...” she nodded at the cot.

McCoy snorted. “The biobed? Damned if I know. I’m a doctor, not an engineer. But it stopped working this morning, and none of the actual engineers can be bothered to come lend a hand until tomorrow.”

Tosh stood. “Could I take a look?”

* * *

She was up to her shoulders inside the biobed when the door whooshed open again.

“Hello, down there.” The voice sounded amused.

“Hang on just a moment,” she called. It was all starting to come together. This was _definitely_ the same technology the rift had spat out a few months ago. She twinned two wires together, the popped the narrow tube of liquid back into place and twisted a glass plate. The circuitry hummed to life around her, and she smiled in quiet satisfaction, then slid out from inside the biobed.

A man in a yellow uniform was standing in the room, along with another man in blue.

The man in yellow pointed. “Now, I’m the last person to lecture anyone about official protocols, but I’m pretty sure we aren’t supposed to let intruders play around with the technology.”

“Yes,” said McCoy dryly, “I’m surprised she didn’t build a death-ray out of my broken biobed and destroy us all.”

It wasn’t that Tosh hadn’t considered the death ray option, it was just that it hadn’t seemed necessary after the first twenty minutes of banter and flirting with Bones. He hadn’t tried to hurt her, or even to question her, and God knew he’d had plenty of opportunity for both. They’d just made pleasant conversation and griped about their co-workers, and she’d learned all sorts of invaluable things about Starfleet command hierarchy and where the ship kept its escape pods.

Escape pods, apparently, were a point of real concern for the good doctor, who had chosen to serve on a space-ship despite his _incredible fear of space_. Tosh was trying - and failing - not to find that endearing.

“Actually, Doctor McCoy,” began the man in blue, as Tosh rose to her feet, “there are several components to a biobed which - ”

“Do you _see_ a death-ray in here, you green-blooded - ”

“Hey there,” said the man in gold, as the other two men continued to bicker, McCoy in increasingly loud tones, and other in a perpetually level voice. “Captain James T. Kirk.”

“Toshiko Sato,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Call me Tosh.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Tosh.”

He flashed her a grin that was 100% pure flirt, and let his hand linger on hers for a moment. Tosh almost laughed. _Really? I work with Captain I-seduce-because-I-breath Harkness,_ she thought, amused. _You’ll have to try harder than that._ She hid her amusement behind a polite smile.

Turning, the Captain said, “Bones, Spock, knock it off.”

“Captain, he - ”

“Dammit, Jim, he - ”

“I wasn’t trying to escape,” she said, before they could start again. “I just wanted something to do with my hands.”

“She had a panic attack,” said Bones, almost smugly. “ _Standard medical procedure_ after administration of improvoline is to remove the source of the panic if possible - which meant not sending her back to a cell, Mister Spock.”

“Are Jack and Gwen alright?” Tosh asked, suddenly feeling guilty for not asking after them sooner.

The Captain grinned. “Captain Harkness has been flirting with everything that moves. Now there’s a man after my own heart. I think your Miss Cooper is ready to phaser him, given half an opportunity. But otherwise they’re just fine. I left Nurse Chapel in charge. When I left, she was bonding with Cooper over how hard it is to work under such incredibly handsome and heroic captains.”

Spock raised one disbelieving eyebrow. Tosh doubted, somehow, that Gwen and Chapel had phrased their complaint in _quite_ those words.

“So they checked out?” said Bones, sarcastically. “I didn’t let a dangerous anti-Federation terrorist into my biobed?”

“Nope,” said Kirk, “just a lost traveller, as near as we can tell. Harkness thinks he can get them back in a day or two, once he gets his little device working again.”

“So take them all to the guest quarters, already,” Bones said, then shot her an apologetic half-smile. “Not that it hasn’t been a treat to have you here, Ms. Sato.” It was equal parts charming and annoying, she thought, the way he insisted on calling her ‘Ms. Sato’ instead of ‘Tosh’. “But I imagine you’re eager to get back to your people.”

“Proper procedure,” Spock began stiffly.

But the Captain interrupted: “Proper procedure says they need to be supervised at all times. And the guest quarters are boring. So I thought maybe someone could take them on a tour of the ship or something.”

“So pick some poor sucker to show them around,” snapped McCoy.

Kirk grinned. Tosh, who could already guess where this was going, began to laugh.

“Oh, no,” Bones said, eyes narrowing. “Absolutely not. Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a tour guide!”

* * *

“And this,” said Bones, with grouchy ill-grace, “is the mess hall.”

Tosh felt her breath catch in her throat, just a little, at the sight of the the starscape through the wide windows.

“Replicators,” said Jack dreamily, not even seeming to notice the wonder just across the room. Instead, he was fixated on a little niche in the nearest wall. “Make anything you want on a second’s notice. I miss that kind of tech. Chocolate, whipped cream, strawberries in the dead of space... lube, toys - ”

“You,” said Bones, cheeks pinking, “are not Jim Kirk. Starfleet regulations do not require me to put up with this nonsense from _you_.”

“Technically they don’t require you to put up with it from him either.” Jack batted his eyelashes. “Sexual harassment, and all. So Jim should join us, yeah? The more the merrier, I always say. There was this one time in the Lotus Nebula - ”

The doctor rolled his eyes as he turned away. “Ladies, can I get your anything to eat?”

Gwen looked around. “They don’t look like they’re open, at the moment...?”

“No, the replicators,” he said, by way of explanation. He stepped forward to the niche in the wall. “Coffee. My usual order.” There was a soft sound, and when he turned around he was clutching a mug of piping hot coffee. “Ms Sato?” He gestured forward to the machine, with a crooked smile. “I reckon the woman who put my biobed back together without so much as a first year Academy engineering course doesn’t need my help with a replicator.

Tosh stepped forward with a smile. “Agedashi tofu,” she told the machine. She was in the mood for comfort food. She’d never learned to cook agedashi tofu herself, and none of the shops in Cardiff made it right.

With a shimmer of light and a soft noise, her food knit itself together before her very eyes, already in a bowl with _hashi_ perched neatly on the side. She picked it, her smile widening into a grin, mind already trying to deconstruct the process behind the technology. “Bones, this is incredible.”

“It’s just a replicator,” he said, gruffly embarrassed, then quickly turned to Gwen. “And for you, Miss?”

Tosh took a seat at a table with Jack, as Gwen took her turn with the machine. “Not hungry, sir?” She tasted her tofu. The texture wasn’t _quite_ perfect, but the flavour was exactly what she remembered from her childhood. She made a happy humming noise.

Jack flashed her a grin. “Replicators aren’t quite the same novelty for me, Tosh. So, what do you think of our Doctor McCoy? Or should I say ‘Bones’? I’ll bet you a week’s pay Kirk came up with that one.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I like him well enough. He’d a gentleman, in his own way.” She liked the way he smiled, and the old-fashioned manners that lurked beneath his gruff exterior. She liked the way he treated her like a woman _and_ a capable adult. She liked a lot of things about Bones. Instead of saying any of that, she just gave Jack her best innocent smile.

For some reason, that set Jack to laughing, and then Gwen and Bones were at their table and Jack let the conversation drop.

 _I’m in space,_ Tosh thought, eyeing Bones sidelong as she nibbled at her food. Was it just her, or was he flirting _back_ at Jack, in his own sullen way? _Owen is far away and long ago and like it or not, I’m never going to meet anyone on this ship ever again after we get home._

Just this once... just this once, I want to be adventurous.

* * *

Tosh stretched, enjoying the slight ache. She felt pleasantly limp, more relaxed than even the improvoline had made her.

Bones caught her out-flung hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles it in a groggy, absentminded sort of way.

“I bet you’re charming even in your sleep,” she whispered, twisting so that their fingers twinned together. She rolled over, curling up around their clasped hands.

He blinked those beautiful blue eyes at her, then reached out his free hand to brush a stray lock of sweat-damp hair out of her face before leaning in for a kiss.  



End file.
